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Chris
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This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here.
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"
[written in my book lover's journal; possibly a couple months after reading it]
Aghast that people acclaim Van Vogt at all, in any way, even a little bit. "Jommy"?! for fvck's sake "Vee Vee," think of something that actually smacks of a futurity --... " Read more of this review » |
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"You said it, brother.
I wish I'd read your review instead of this book. " |
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Chris
took the Never-Ending Book Quiz
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"I’m hoping 2009 was just a sophomore slump for my goodreads participation; a lot of unexpected things kept me from reading often, and probably reviewe...more
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The mashup of the poetic and the vulgar sets this book apart in a way that sometimes annoys and more often hits the spot. Miller gets modernist stream-of-consciousness to work cleverly through the trash-talk. Though I can’t tell you how hard it wa...
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Chris
rated a book 3 of 5 stars
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| Sometimes, I find that a book can be a welcome surprise because the blurb on the back doesn’t nearly do justice explaining the story within, and I wonder why they couldn’t have spent a little more time to accurately describe its awesomeness to move m...more | |||||||||||
"Never heard of it, sounds solid, and anything liable to be found at a bus stop is probably right up my alley."
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“The schoolmastering profession has always attracted homosexual flagellants”
― Burgo Partridge, A History of Orgies
― Burgo Partridge, A History of Orgies
“They haven't any spirit in them - no proud dreams and no proud lusts; and a man who hasn't one or the other-Lord! What is he but funk and precautions.”
― H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds
― H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds
“Before I'd touch a square bitch's slit,
I'd suck a thousand clappy pricks and swim through liquid shit,
They got green puke between their rotten toes,
And snot runs from their funky nose,
I hope square bitches become syphilitic wrecks,
I hope they fall through their own assholes and break their motherfucking necks.”
― Iceberg Slim, Pimp: The Story of My Life
I'd suck a thousand clappy pricks and swim through liquid shit,
They got green puke between their rotten toes,
And snot runs from their funky nose,
I hope square bitches become syphilitic wrecks,
I hope they fall through their own assholes and break their motherfucking necks.”
― Iceberg Slim, Pimp: The Story of My Life
“I'm a headstone waiting for words, so just carve my epitaph for me”
― Ken Andrews - Year of the Rabbit
― Ken Andrews - Year of the Rabbit
“Every fictioneer re-invents the world because the facts, things or people of the received world are unacceptable.”
― Geoffrey Wolff
― Geoffrey Wolff
The Land Of Pussy & Ice (Romance)
1 chapters
—
updated Mar 29, 2010 04:34pm
Description:
I haven't posted any 'writing' on here yet, and figured what the hell. Seeing as I don't do any writing, I'm just going to type the lyrics to a song I wrote back when I was a punk-ass bitch, jamming with a band called Accretion Disc around the turn of the millennium. That whole endeavor went to shit in a spectacular and horrific wreckage which is still spoken of in hushed whispers in the jit-drenched back alleys of dive bars scattered amidst the suburbs of Chicago. Our lead singer, perhaps the most narcissistic bag of shit I've ever met, abruptly decided the band was a vehicle for his own self-serving motives after a New Years Eve show, in which he mind-bogglingly saw himself as a new rock messiah preaching to a tremendous crowd of about 60 loyal and zealous acolytes. Rumor has it that his new band is playing the Warped Tour this year, and I checked out their myspace page to see if this unholy abortion would really be given stage-time, and sure enough, my friend-turned-nemesis was indeed given a chance at the meteoric rise he'd been masturbating over for so long, while looking at his reflection in the mirror dressed as a woman. While I can only weep that someone would promote his untalented ass, it is pretty funny that this poor, unscrupulous spritz of salamander sperm has been reduced to a mascara-wearing androgynous piece of fuck-bait.
The song was a response to the aforementioned asshole’s displeasure that any time he asked me for songwriting input I gave him certifiable garbage, inane and diddling rooster shit that even brain-damaged gluesniffers wouldn’t bother with. So, the bassist and I showed our genuine appreciation for his constructive criticism by laying this one down loud and true on the long-gone Tascam 4-track. The bassist overlaid the guitar as well and sang this silly shit and I took care of the drums and the backing vocals, as my singing voice has been unfavorably compared to the mating call of a wildebeest getting an indian-burn on its sack.
Get your lighter at the ready.....
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